


Applause

by CannibalKats



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 20:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4535718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris and Hawke have decided to give their relationship another try after killing Danarius.  They find themselves the last ones left awake in camp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Applause

                It’s three days into the search for slavers on the wounded coast and Fenris is lost. Hawke, Isabela, and Varric all know where they’re going, certainly. They’ve certainly cleansed the coast of enough raiders and sell swords to assure him of that. It’s his internal compass he doesn’t trust, the needle used to point him always forward, always to freedom, now it only points to Hawke.

                _Soft, warm, kind, inviting,_ his gaze lingers on her as sits between Isabela’s knees, little treasures being braided into her untamed hair. Varric’s voice rises with his punch line and she doubles over, her laugh more of a cackle then the tinkling bells he’d grown used to from nobility. She even snorts before she’s done. The pirate catches his eyes and smirks at him.

                The mirth from the other side of the fire continues as Varric’s tale winds to a close and Isabela perks up with a bawdy tale of her own. Fenris hunches over his sword and begins to work on sharpening the blade, it’s not entirely necessary but it gives him focus, a place to set his eyes that isn’t her, or the memory of his mouth over hers, the feel of her breath against his neck.

                “You’re quiet.”

                He swallows, her heavy breasts press against his back as she leans over his shoulder.

                “Do you want to talk about it?” She moves to sit beside him and he looks up for the first time to see it’s only them left awake.

                “About what,” he asks. “The silence?”

                She doesn’t even frown at his tone. “I thought that after we talked, that maybe,” she trails off. “I guess maybe I misunderstood.”

                “Dahlia,” he had said _things_ after what had happened with Danarius. He’d even meant them. “I am, I am not good at _this_.”

                She smiles, lips stretching over teeth. A small sound bubbles out of her mouth and she reaches towards him slowly so that he can stop her if he’d like to. Her fingers dance across the nape of his neck and into his hair. “Good,” she says softly, more to herself than anyone else. “I mean, I’m not either.”

                Fenris sets his sword aside and turns to look at her; small, soft, Dahlia Hawke, mage, rogue, Champion. She sits beside him in the breaches and shirt of her traveling clothes but he sees her in the simple linen dresses she wears in Kirkwall. Her tea coloured eyes twinkle in the dying fire as she glances around.

                All he hears are the wet sounds of snores from the tent but he glances around himself to be sure. When he looks back she’s on her knees in front of him. One small hand slowly rises up to rest on his thigh, the corner of her mouth turned up in a wicked smirk.

                “Isabela said you were watching me,” her voice is sing song, and her eyebrows waggle comically.

                “Isabela says a lot of things,” he grouses.

                Hawke’s hand runs up his thigh, the touch light and painfully slow and stops at the crease of thigh and groin. Her shirt is open and her breasts heave slightly as she rises onto her knees and uses her free hand to drag him down to kiss her. Fenris falls into the kiss, tongue pushing past lips and teeth to find hers, eager and teasing.

               Her hand drops from his neck and joins the other kneading the inside of his thighs, so close to where he longs for her touch him but not close enough. He reaches for her, hands on her waist trying to urge her up. He moans against her mouth. She doesn’t budge settling on her heals, ending the kiss. Her hands moving closer and closer she smiles up at him and wets her lips.

                His hands move to her chest when she fumbles with the ties of his pants, and he thinks he hears her mutter something about _too many knots_. By the time she done freeing him from his trousers he’s gotten enough buttons undone to slip his hands into her shirt and feel the weight of her breasts in them. She sighs as calloused palms brush past her nipples, and he kisses her again as she takes his length in hand.

                When she breaks the kiss her eyes are lidded, the nails of one hand tease the inside of his thigh and he gasps when she presses swollen lips against the tip of his cock. He watches as she places light kisses down the shaft her tongue darting out at the base and running the length to tip before taking the whole of his length in her mouth.

She’s still for a moment. Breasts against thighs as her tongue swirls around him inside her mouth before she begins to bob her head up and down his length, cheeks hollowing as she sucks. He has one hand tangled in her hair, but he doesn’t lead, she’s an anchor. His other finds a breast, a nipple. “Dahlia” he groans her name as she moans around his cock.

                “Hawke,” it comes out as a grunt when she moans again, the vibration almost more than he can take. He tries to focus on anything else, to make it last but his eyes trace the movement of her arm, the twitch of her hips. He watches her work herself with her hands and she moans around him again.

                His hands move to her shoulders urging her back and up, this time she complies. She stands in front of him chest heaving, a silhouette against the dying fire. Fenris pushes her pants the rest of the way down and she steps one foot out of them without a word. Her eyes never leaving his face as his hands urge her thighs apart and pull her over him.

                He catches a nipple with his teeth and he sheaths himself in her. She buries her face in his neck to muffle her moan. She rides him, raising herself to almost standing a few times before he thrusts up to meet her. Burying their moans against one another until she can’t anymore, until she cries out _Fenris, don’t stop, Maker please, don’t._

                They practically topple over the makeshift bench but he doesn’t stop. His grip in her ass is sure to leave bruises and she might draw blood if she bites his shoulder any harder, he stutters out the words _I’m going to_ as she cries out his name again and he follows suit muffled between her breasts. The sweet fog of orgasm is shattered by a round of applause.

              “What a show,” Isabela smirks sitting in the mouth of the tent.

                Fenris helps Hawke tuck herself back into her shirt, while they both try to awkwardly pull on their pants without exposing themselves anymore than they already had.

                “A shame we only caught the finale,” Varric chuckles from somewhere deeper inside the tent.

                Fenris starts to apologize as she sets herself to rights but he sees the smirk play on her face as she turns towards the tent. Hawke pushes past Isabela one her way into the tent and he hears he say “Next time you wanna watch, there’s a fee.”


End file.
